


Point of No Return

by PolarGrizz47



Series: Darkness in the Light [5]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Crying, Drinking, Ghost killing, Guardian killing, Impalement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 00:12:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15960566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarGrizz47/pseuds/PolarGrizz47
Summary: The Warlock’s expression became pained and Drifter suddenly realized what Adrian had been busy doing. His Ghost shook with fright inside of him, silent but their connection was steady.





	Point of No Return

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags!!

Things were peaceful for the duo. They hunted in the darkness alongside Drifter and his Ghost, lived in the Deletrict and threw back shots at a few haunts that Drifter had tabs running in. They collected weakened enemies and technology, watched wars rage on across the system and often ripped into the ascendant plane like a couple of wolves.

They currently sat at a dusty old bar with a bone table from some old, large beast. Wooden carvings of various creatures decorated the walls and Adrian’s gaze took in every detail. He wondered if he could carve the Void Beasts, but it was hard to capture their likeness. They often shifted in the realm, adapting to hunt him better, to kill each other faster. A dog eats dog world and Adrian missed it subtly, the simplicity of survival.

What he had going now was a good thing, he couldn’t lie. But Evelyn often warned him of the bounty on his head, the Vanguard would surely send their champions to come and collect him eventually.

For now, though, he would enjoy their travels and Drifter’s odds and ends.

His eyes landed back on the table as the Exo bartender set a clear glass of an amber liquid in front of him. “On the house, quiet guy,” She said with a wink of her green eyes.

Drifter looked at him with a grin, “She’s already giving you free shots? See, I knew you were good for somethin’,” He clapped Adrian on the back and a plume of dust rose from the Hunter’s jacket. The sandy hell hole reminded them of Mars, but Adrian had long ago forgotten the name of the planet. It was just another hunting ground, fresh and new.

Evelyn floated over the drink before scanning it, just in case. The bartender didn’t seem perturbed it. 

“You’ve got a name? Or are you as mysterious as this asshole here?” She said, jerking a thumb towards Drifter’s sharp smile.

Adrian picked up the drink and downed it in one single swallow, feeling his skin tingle with a burn that crawled down his throat and settled low in his belly. He lifted a hand to his throat and made a slight wave of his hand, fingertips brushing against his freckled skin.

“Can’t speak,” Drifter added helpfully even as Evelyn sent him a dirty look. 

“Well, I can. And if you don’t mind me asking, what if  _ your _ name?” She floated closer to the bartender, noting that she wasn’t a Guardian - or she had lost her Ghost, more likely.

The bartender chuckled, her blue paint reflecting in the low light of the establishment. “Call me Sky,” She said, watching as Evelyn circled her once before returning to Adrian’s side.

The Hunter lifted his hand and let his Ghost settle there, examining the glow of the Void that shimmered away from Evelyn in a thick, purple mist. He glanced at Drifter and rose a brow before he nodded at Evelyn.

“Call us what we are, Void Hunters,” She said finally to answer Sky’s probings.

Sky hummed, leaning forward subtly to take in Adrian’s glowing right arm. Atop of his armor was a thick layer of crystal, purple and sharp, cracked but unbreaking. He tapped his fingers against the countertop, drumming out a rhythm with his Void claws, leaving shimmering pockmarks of purple against the bone surface. 

“Alrighty, Drifter and his Void Hunting friend… you two are a hoot,” Sky quickly looked to their right as the door opened and both men turned to regard the newcomer.

He wore a long duster, beaten and bloody but still wearable. His leather boots were tied with many layers to keep the sand out of his soles and his pants were tapped down as well, tucked into the old boots. Scavenged material and bones were fitted to his gauntlets, giving him bone claws reinforced with metal. Strapped to his thigh was a beaten hand cannon and a sniper with a cracked lens was fitted across his back, orange in color and carved with a fancy  _ ‘H’ _ at the stock. 

As he reached up to drop his torn hood, Adrian couldn’t take his eyes away. The stranger’s face was tired, covered in ample facial hair, haphazardly trimmed. He had mellow amber eyes and a scar running through the middle of his left cheek and up to his ear, a slight nick to the shell of it. His dark hair was longer, tied back and curling around his neck, the base of the tail reaching his collarbones. It looked wavy, and it surely was a pain in the ass to keep maintained. He was tan and pelted with scars, reminding the Hunter of the constant hardships of battle.

Drifter grinned, slapping the countertop with a laugh. “Why, ol Handsome! I thought you died,” He waved a finger at the man, “Where the hell have you been, eh? Been a couple decades.” 

The man grunted and took a seat by Drifter, lifting a finger at Sky to signal for a drink. Within moments, a tall glass of water was placed in front of him. He grabbed it with a large fist and gulped it down in three swigs, Adrian’s bewildered gaze glued to the bob of his Adam's apple.

Evelyn looked at her Hunter, then the stranger, and back to Adrian. Her eye squinted with glee and she glowed brightly for a second, buzzing with excitement. 

Adrian gave her a glare, a warning but the deed was already done.

The glow had caught the man’s attention, and he turned his face to examine Adrian. Even if he looked fresh from his travels, he was still remarkably attractive. 

Despite how Adrian averted his gaze, he could still clearly see the man’s Ghost. It was strange, it had an old, circular shell and a big yellow eye to match his Guardian’s. It sat in the hood of his duster, looking relaxed and well despite how rough the man looked.

Drifter gestured towards Adrian. “This here’s my current buddy. Can’t speak, which is a real damn shame. He’s got some amazing stories, but his Ghost is finicky.”

“I’m sure it's just like yours,” Handsome cracked a grin, his gaze lingering on Adrian’s features. The Hunter suddenly wished that he had another drink. “Pleasure’s all mine, kid. Be careful, this idiot sucks at poker.”

“I’m good at strip poker,” Drifter defended with a bark of laughter, flashing three fingers. “I’ll buy us a round for old time’s sake, alright, buddy?”

“No skin off my bones,” The man drawled, leaning back to stretch his legs out. He had broad shoulders and muscle like a Titan but garb like a Warlock, there was even an old bond tied around his upper arm, but a familiar mark by his hip.

Usually, most of Drifter’s ‘friends’ shared one thing in common. They had long ago given up the strict rules of the Vanguard. They practiced anything and everything that worked for them, helped them survive and live long enough to see the next fight and collect their loot. 

Adrian had seen Drifter perform ancient Warlock techniques and readily use the skills of a worthy Hunter. He was a terror in battle, favoring the burn of solar energy and the incinerating kiss of a golden gun.

For a long time, Drifter and Handsome chatted. Evelyn pinged in when she could and Adrian made a few gestures with his hands, but he was always comfortable just listening. He had a remarkable memory, even without Evelyn’s help, he’d always been good at collecting secrets and hoarding information like a spy.

Finally, they were forced to call it a night when Handsome’s Ghost said something about a nearby bounty. Feeling fuzzy and warm, Adrian had shaken hands with the strange man and found amusement in his given moniker,  _ Handsome _ . It wasn’t a lie, but it was cocky. Adrian liked it.

Before they headed out, the man placed a heavy hand on Drifter's shoulder and quietly gave him a tip. “Just so you know, there’s been an old arc Warlock ‘round here. Lookin’ for you. And your friend here. Got a pretty nice bounty on your heads. I almost thought about huntin’ you myself, but then I remembered what happened to Scarlett.”

Drifter made a face, a brief sheen of regret in his blue eyes before it was gone. He nodded at Handsome with a smirk, “Thanks for the tip, pretty boy. We’ll keep our eyes out.”

They stumbled from Sky’s establishment with a hoot of thanks and a promise to pay the tab next time. Adrian wondered how much he owed. 

Evelyn was still buzzing around Adrian’s head like a love drunk teenager, dancing on air. She hummed happily as they walked and Drifter laughed at them, slapping a hand on Adrian’s shoulder. 

“Easy there, kid. Handsome may be pretty, but he’s a nasty old man. Trust me on this,” His voice erred on teasing, but there was something else below the tone, a warning, perhaps. Adrian’s heart still fluttered at the idea of Handsome, but he took the words seriously. Drifter hadn’t tried to pull the wool over his eyes, yet. Maybe because he knew that Adrian would gut him angrily if he did. 

Still, Evelyn hummed and danced around their heads and Drifter’s own Ghost silently joined in on the dance, chasing Evelyn to and fro friendlily. 

-:-

They were just finishing up their hunt for dusty, blood-red Fallen when it happened. A crack of a rifle shot exploded near Drifter’s Ghost, sending the poor thing phasing into him with a quick flash. Drifter rolled behind cover, clutching a white mote in his hand. 

A quick glance around the field showed that Adrian had also taken cover, but he couldn’t see the man. He was frightfully good at hiding and hunting. Over their personal comms, he warned, “Up left, towards the fossilized trees. He’s aiming for Ghosts, best keep your head down, kid.”

Evelyn’s voice was angry as she responded, “He’s from the  _ Vanguard _ . Why can’t they just leave us alone?”

“They hate to admit defeat, and after the getaway we pulled… well, I ain’t surprised that Zavala is sore about it,” Drifter looked over his hand cannon, double checking his ammo reserves before locking and loading.  He decided that he'd rather fight the man personally, and tucked the mote away safely, “Let’s split up, try and corner him.”

Silence was all that answered and he rolled from his cover, holding a blade in one hand. He skidded to another jutting rock, leaning against the outcrop while patting at his chest, over his heart in an attempt to soothe his startled Ghost. His pulse was racing with anger and thrill and Drifter knew that they were going to  _ enjoy _ this. 

-:-

He ran into the Warlock first, getting a faceful of force energy thrown at him. Stumbling back with a broken nose and a fresh stream of blood, Drifter threw a fiery blade. He heard it stick the mark and explode, the Warlock’s pained cry reaching his ears as he rolled behind cover. He shook out the disorientation and wiped at his mouth, cockily calling out, “C’mon, I’ve seen Psions punch harder!”

The Warlock’s voice was gravelly and furious, “For a Rogue, you sure are sloppy at hiding.” 

“And yet it still took the Vanguard how many years to find us?” He laughed, “You’re all really something, you’ve gone soft.” 

Gripping his hand cannon, Drifter lunged from his cover and fired a series of shots towards the Warlock on his way to a new location. They chased each other in a game of cat and mouse, the roles changing and the bullets painting the ground and the area in fresh, smoldering pockmarks. Shields were ruined and Ghosts were working overtime to heal the damage by the time the two faced off fully once again. 

The Drifter wondered what the hell Adrian was waiting for. Maybe he was just watching, judging. He wouldn't be surprised.

Drifter had the high ground in the old, barely standing ruins of a golden age skyscraper. He watched the sand blow along the ground and listened to the distant chatter of Fallen until he heard a footfall below him. His old friend pinged the Warlock’s location and without hesitation, Drifter trusted his Ghost and dove down. He landed right on the man, kicking him to the ground before they rolled, struggling to disarm each other.

Drifter won, sending the Warlock’s weapon skittering to the side before he delivered a few punches to the man’s already bleeding face, having long ago ruined the other’s helmet in their deadly dance. The Warlock covered himself briefly as Drifter lifted his hand cannon, intending to kill the man right then and there and force his enemy's Ghost into a vulnerable state. 

However, the Warlock suddenly grabbed a hold of Drifter’s arm and sent a jolt of electricity through the man that sat atop him. Drifter howled, muscles convulsing as he scrambled to get back, gasping for air and feeling a tingle racing through his organs. He felt like he might be sick. 

The Warlock lunged forwards, grabbing at an old piece of rusty pipe and brandishing it like a spear as Drifter stumbled away, still tasting the leftover charge on his tongue. 

He leaned against the wall and lifted his gun, sending a series of shots into the Warlock’s chest as the man raised the spear and electrified it. With a strong toss, he sent the thing plunging into Drifter’s chest, pinning the man to the wall with a grotesque sound of meat giving way to cement. Drifter screamed, half out of the shock and half out of the agony of it all. 

The Warlock collapsed to his knees, pulling a sidearm from his back and keeping it pointed at Drifter. The rouge clenched one hand around his cannon while the other grasped at the bloodied pole, feeling the leftover tingle of electricity racing into him. He tried to pull it out, but he could barely feel his legs and found that his strength had been sapped from him. With a clogged laugh, he pointed his weapon and taunted, “Now we wait… which one of us is gonna die first? Which one of us is gonna risk our Ghost?” Blood painted his lips and chin, but his eyes were cold and steely. “Where the hell is your damn fireteam, old man?”

While wheezing between the holes in his chest, the Warlock shook his head, “I work better alone.”

“That’s what they all say,” Drifter growled, keeping his gaze focused on the other Guardian even as darkness began to creep into him. He gasped, lungs struggling around the pipe and filling with blood. “S-Seriously, you fool, I know that blue idiot wouldn’t send a loner out for us.”

As he coughed up a fresh mouthful of blood, the two stiffened as suddenly two waves of light washed over them in a pulse, one after the other.

The Warlock’s expression became pained and Drifter suddenly realized what Adrian had been busy doing. His Ghost shook with fright inside of him, silent but their connection was steady. 

“Huh,” Drifter grinned with red-rimmed teeth, “Guess we win this round.”

“You fucking m-monster,” The Warlock spat, unloading a fresh clip into Drifter’s chest just to wipe that smile off his face. The gambler slouched, hands falling to his sides as his body was held up by the pole jutting out of his middle. His cannon hit the ground by his feet, useless out of his hands.

Reluctantly, his silent Ghost was withdrawn from his body in order to heal the damage and resurrect Drifter. The Warlock grinned at the sight and allowed his own Ghost to phase out and begin healing him as he aimed his weapon at the vulnerable, exposed Ghost of his enemy.

Before he could pull the trigger, there was a clink of metal and his Ghost suddenly cried out, finding itself grabbed by a Void-coated hand. He looked up quickly at fired a shot into Adrian’s chest, but the man hardly looked bothered. He was covered in blood from the Warlock's other two fireteam members and his gaze was cold, dead. He lifted the Ghost closer to his face to inspect it, his Void claws sinking into its shell like hot metal. 

The Warlock screamed and shot again, and again but Adrian merely crushed the Ghost to silence it’s begging and wailing. The Void laughed in his ears, whispers caressing the back of his mind, reminding him of his strength over the Light and the Dark. 

Adrian didn’t care, really. He just wanted to be left alone to hunt and explore. He wanted the glowing scars on his body to fade and the nightmares of Zavala to vanish. And deep down, he wanted  _ revenge. _

Killing Guardian’s was just a part of that dream.

An explosion of light from the now deceased Ghost sent the two apart, Adrian falling lifelessly to the ground, his wounds finally dragging him under as the sound of Evelyn’s own worried voice filled his ears. 

Instead of the true silence of death, Adrian found the Void grasping at him, pulling him back in with the promise of isolation and peace. Of healing and hunting.

Despite this, he clung to Evelyn’s last echoes and waited.

When he came too, Drifter was crouched beside him. The man helped him wake up with a pat at his cheek, his blue eyes narrowed. His Ghost was buzzing crazily around his head and Evelyn was bumping into Adrian’s cheek. He was slow to wake, slow to open his eyes fully and comprehend what he was seeing. 

They were back on the Derelict and Adrian was spread out on Drifter’s workspace, the closest flat surface near the entrance. 

“Fucking _ finally,” _ Drifter muttered, leaning back to breathe out a relieved laugh. “I thought you’d gone comatose or something. Don’t scare me like that, kid,” He sat back on his haunches and put a firm palm on Adrian’s chest when the younger Hunter made to sit up. “Relax, you look pale. Didn't know you had that many freckles.” 

Adrian laid still and turned his head to examine Drifter. He certainly wasn’t impaled anymore, but he was still sickly looking, fresh from a recent resurrection. His clothes were a bloodied mess and his hair was wild without his bandana, but he was alive. And that was all that Adrian wanted. 

Evelyn pressed harder into his cheek and Adrian turned his gaze onto her, barely managing a tired smile. He lifted a shaky hand to cradle her close, pulling her to his chest. She listened to his heartbeat and calmed some, but her voice still sounded raw as she whispered, “Don’t you leave me like that again. I-I thought that I’d failed or --”

Adrian shook his head and gently stroked over her shell with his human hand, closing his eyes tiredly. She settled, still trembling to his touch, but he never let go even if the temptation of sleep was great. Instead, he listened to her weak humming and Drifter’s distant bitching. The ship was moving and a handful of motes covered the ground nearby. Clearly, the man had knocked everything off in his hurry to deposit Adrian’s body. 

His friend came back over with a grunt, pulling Adrian into a sitting position, “Here, you gotta eat. It helps.”

He unceremoniously shoved a bowl of cheesy noodles into the Hunter’s lap before falling back into his working chair. Drifter shoved a spoonful of his own food into his mouth and swallowed without chewing. 

Adrian’s fingers were stiff, but he released Evelyn in favor of depositing her into his cloak, against his neck. She cuddled into his chilly, sweat covered skin and watched as he mechanically ate. He couldn’t even taste the food. His body was focused on refueling and not on enjoying the meal. He doubted that it tasted that great anyways. 

They sat in silence, forcing down their meals as much as they could. Drifter finished almost all of his and frowned at how little Adrian had managed to eat. Those green eyes were distant, hollow. 

“Hey,” He coughed, offered a nod towards the other man, “If you ever need to talk…”

“We never wanted to kill them, but they just kept coming at us,” Evelyn blurted, her voice fragile, “So we finished the fight.” 

Drifter nodded in understanding, “I know, kid. But this is the life we’re living. We lazed about for too long in one place. People talk. I’ll try and make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

Adrian merely blinked at him and recoiled at the sudden wetness he felt burning in his eyes. He scrubbed a hand down his face and turned his head away, but Drifter only sighed, his voice flat. “Ain’t no shame in it, kid. It never gets easy.”

-:-

Adrian sat in the co-pilot seat after cleaning himself up, lifting his claws to the windshield and watching the stars reflect against the Void crystal. Wet tears were still rolling down his cheeks, but he found it was easier to cry when he was alone.

Drifter had retired to his own room for the night to lick his wounds and recoup. 

Evelyn floated into his line of sight and fondly bumped into his forehead. “Hey, don’t think that,” She muttered, glancing at his changed arm. “We did what we had to do to survive. Those Guardian’s would’ve killed us - or worse - trapped us and dragged us back to the Tower to be  _ cleansed.” _

The Hunter’s lips curled into a silent snarl and he squeezed his hand into a tight fist. Again, he reminded himself that it wasn’t the killing that was hard -- it was the fear of death. The fear of the Void pulling him in and keeping him there, alone. 

He curled his legs to his chest and rocked himself shallowly, sniffling back his sobs. Evelyn rushed to his chest, tucking herself against his racing heartbeat and humming soothingly. He held her close and cherished these moments, fearing that they may be fleeting as the Void corruption grows in his mind and over his body. No matter how long they waited, the crystal now never left his arm.

He cried until the tears just stopped coming and he sat there, exhausted. Adrian bowed his head, letting the tear tracks dry and his need for sleep pull him under, still holding tight to Evelyn and wishing that she would never leave him.

**Author's Note:**

> And we see the twisted web Adrian has fallen into. Also kinda playing into the Lore hints that Drifter may be a Dredgen.... and isn't unused to killing Guardians. 
> 
> And yes, Handsome will return. 
> 
> May edit this again later, I'm so sleepy. 2 am... just wanna post it lol


End file.
